possible, with more than their former interest. They wiped their
spectacles; with glances of commiseration they saw us alight, and with
unwearied scrutiny they witnessed the removal of our luggage from the
carriage. We went out--every body stared at us--the people we _did_
know touched the hands we extended, and hastened on as if fearful of
infection; the people we _did not_ know whispered as they passed us,
and looked back afterwards; the men servants seemed full of mysterious
flurry when we left our cards at the doors of acquaintances, and the
maid-servants peeped at us up the areas; the shopkeepers came from their
counters to watch us down the streets--and all was whispering and
wonder.

I could not make it out; was it to see the authoress? No; I had been an
authoress when they last saw me. Was it the brilliant success of my new
work? It _could_ be nothing else.

My husband met a maiden lady, and bowed to her; she passed on without
deigning to notice him. I spoke to an insipid man who had always bored
me with his unprofitable intimacy, and he looked another way! The next
lady we noticed tossed her head, as if she longed to toss it _at_ us;
and the next man we met opened his eyes astonishingly wide, and said--

"Are _you_ here! Dear me! I was told you could not show your--I mean,
did not mean to return!"

There was evidently some mystery, and we determined to wait patiently
for its developement. "If," said I, "it bodes us _good_, time will
unravel it." "And if," said my husband, "it bodes us evil, some d--d
good-natured friend will tell us all about it."